35: Valandur and the High King

Ingwë remained in Tirion for about another week, along with Olwë. During that time, Valandur avoided everyone as much as possible. He spent some time setting down an account of everything that had happened to him as fully as he could, but when he was not doing that, he was wandering through the city or sitting in the Rose and Crown with his otornor or visiting Minalcar and his family. Morion had returned to Orvamas with assurances from Ingwë that all would be well and that he, as High King, would see that none suffered from deprivation while their homes and lives were being rebuilt.

The atmosphere in the palace was rather tense and the few times Valandur saw Ingwë during that week, the High King had a distracted look about him, and there was an underlying sense of anger, but at whom it was directed, Valandur could not say. Indeed, all three kings seemed pensive and once or twice Valandur caught one or the other shouting and vocally deploring the obstinacy of his fellow rulers.

It was an unhappy time for them all. Intarion appeared thoroughly miserable and despondent. Aldamir, Sorondur, Laurelindalë and Nolondilmë went about looking stunned. When Valandur happened upon the two ellith sitting in one of the royal gardens a day or two after their audience with the Elder King, Nolondilmë gave him such a look of loathing and disgust that he backed up in shock and then turned and fled. He kept out of the royal gardens after that, contenting himself with wandering through Finwë Park, but most of the time he just sat in the common room of the Rose and Crown nursing an ale and wishing he were back in Vanyamar.

Three days after the fateful interview with Lord Manwë, one of the royal pages entered the Rose and Crown where Valandur was enjoying the daymeal, handing him a missive with the High King’s seal on it. The page did not bother to wait for an answer, merely bowing to him and leaving. For a long moment, Valandur just stared at the bit of parchment in his hand, then shook himself and slit the seal open with his knife, unfolding it and reading its contents. It was very short and to the point: Return to the palace no later than the second hour after the next First Mingling with your possessions. You may take the suite where you were held prisoner if you do not wish to return to your own room.

It was signed ‘Ingwë Ingaran’ and it was definitely a command. Valandur crumpled the paper and threw it into the unlit fireplace, muttering an oath, pushing his trencher away, no longer hungry. Why did Ingwë want him back at the palace? He was tempted to ignore the summons. In fact, he was half-convincing himself that he should just pack his bags, retrieve his horse and leave for Vanyamar right then and there and to the Void with them all. He fantasized about reaching Valmar and finding Findis and convincing her to run away with him to the tree-cave.

Oh yes, that would be fun, but so impractical. Perhaps he could convince Olwë to give them sanctuary instead.

He shook his head in disgust at the absurdity of it all. Findis would never go with him, not like that. And Finwë was correct about one thing: she was very young, barely out of elflinghood, not even two yéni old. Most people did not marry before they had seen at least three yéni. He did not mind waiting, if that’s what it took, so long as he knew that a day would come when they could marry. Unfortunately, he did not have the right social standing in Finwë’s eyes even if he did eventually become a Manwendur. He thought about that, unsure what his feelings were on the subject. It had been enough for him to simply achieve his goal of becoming a loremaster; he had never thought any further than that. The fact that the Elder King himself was aware of him and his talents and wished for him to enter his service someday actually frightened him with the implication of perhaps just how closely the Eldar were being watched by the Valar and Maiar.

He couldn’t help stealing a glance around the common room, wondering if some invisible Maia was hanging about keeping tabs on him. No. He could not possibly live that way. He did not think the Valar would violate his or anyone else’s privacy in that manner. Yet, he could not deny the fact that perhaps the Eldar, so newly arrived in Aman, were a constant source of amazement and amusement for the Powers. New toys to play with, as it were.

That thought actually brought a chuckle to his lips and the image of the Elder King and the other Valar sitting on the floor of a nursery ‘playing’ with the Elves like elflings restored his sense of humor and perspective and he pulled his trencher toward him. No sense letting this fine meal go to waste after all. Afterwards, he would go upstairs and pack and return to the palace as he saw no point in waiting until the last minute to comply with Ingwë’s command. He would take the suite where he had been held so he would not have to deal with Aldamir and Sorondur. That was perhaps cowardly of him, but right now, he really did not care. He just wanted to go home and forget the last month or so had ever happened.

Thus, a couple of hours later he was being shown into the suite by the housekeeper who assured him that she could arrange to have his meals brought to him so he would not have to bother with dining with everyone else. He hoped that Ingwë would not demand his presence at meals, that he would be content with the fact that Valandur had complied with his orders and leave him alone.

He was on the balcony some time later, enjoying the mingling of the lights, when a knock came on the door and he went back inside and opened it to find Ingwë standing there.

“Sire!” he exclaimed in shock.

“May I come in?” Ingwë asked and that simple request surprised Valandur even more and all he could do was nod and step aside to let the king enter. The ubiquitous guard took a position in front of the door even as Valandur closed it and stared at Ingwë standing in the middle of the sitting room looking about.

“Finwë insisted on putting me in the royal suite,” he said, not looking at Valandur. “Bed’s big enough to sleep four and I could float one of Olwë’s swan ships in the bath. Your suite is much cozier.” Now he looked over at Valandur, giving him what could only be described as a cheeky grin. “I may just move in.”

Valandur snorted, half in amusement, half in disbelief, as he made his way to a sideboard and proceeded to pour some wine into a couple of goblets, handing one to Ingwë. “You’re free to sleep on the sofa, if you wish.”

Ingwë burst out laughing. “But as High King, I should have the bed.”

“But I got here first, so it’s either the sofa or the floor. Take your pick,” Valandur retorted and a part of him was appalled that he could be so flippant with the High King, while another part found himself enjoying the repartee.

Ingwë’s response was a smile as he took a sip of wine, but then his expression sobered. “I’m sorry about everything,” he said quietly.

“Water under the bridge, as I believe the Teleri would say,” Valandur said with a sigh of regret. “I know this is not how you thought things would go, but….”

Ingwë waved a hand, dismissing his protestations. “I do not blame you for any of this, Valandur. I blame myself. I blame Finwë. I even blame the Valar. You were a pawn in a game of kings without even realizing it. I did not expect the rift between our two clans to be as wide as it is. The fact that the Noldor would treat the Vanyarin refugees as they have….”

“Proves only that given similar circumstances with roles reversed we Vanyar might not do any better,” Valandur interrupted. “The entire affair with the food distribution was fomented by people from Tirion, not by the villagers. They do not see themselves as Noldor or Vanyar or Teleri but as Eldar. They all speak the same, or nearly the same, dialect, a more archaic version of Quenya, closer to how we spoke in the early days of our existence. Only those like Morion who spent many years living in Tirion speak in the more current mode.”

“I did notice that they tended to use ná where we have dropped it from everyday speech,” Ingwë averred.

“Yes, very much like the Teleri,” Valandur acknowledged.

“Olwë doesn’t speak that way, though,” Ingwë said.

“The Lindaran and his family are… more sophisticated than the average Teler,” Valandur replied. “I noticed, though, that while I was there they spoke to me using current forms, but when they addressed their subjects, especially those not of the nobility, they often enough resorted to a more archaic one. All I’m saying is that the villagers of the Fiefdoms are more conservative than we of Tirion or Vanyamar. They are very proud of their independence and self-sufficiency. I could see that the idea of accepting hand-outs even from the kings did not sit well with them, which is why I recommended that they should pay for their food. It wasn’t so that the royal coffers could be filled with more coin, but so that the villagers’ pride and self-respect would be preserved.”

“Master Morion said something similar when I spoke with him,” Ingwë said, “and I agreed with him and you. I’ve been spending much of the past week seeing that order was restored once again in the Fiefdoms. Work crews are already there helping to rebuild the villages and getting crops sown. I have been assured that on one level the fire was a good thing for the ashes will enrich the soil and the yield should be greater. Some of the loremasters from Tirion’s Academy, when I questioned them, seemed to think that periodic controlled burning of the fields might be of benefit to us in the long run. I’ve ordered more studies to be made before I make a final decision on it. In the meantime, we need to discuss certain matters between us.”

“What certain matters?”

“Did I not say when we first met that I was contemplating having you join my household?”

“But that was just the… um… cover story, I suppose you could call it, to explain my presence here,” Valandur protested.

“But I also said it was not a lie and I meant what I said,” Ingwë rejoined. “I keep an eye on all the loremasters in Vanyamar, from the oldest to the newly-minted, for I can never know who might have the expertise I need at any given time. Your thesis is not the first I’ve read and it will not be the last, for I will eventually read those of the first year students you presently teach as I will read those that are presently being written by the juniors. It is part of my duties as king.”

“But you can’t possibly understand all that you read, can you?” Valandur gave him a skeptical look. “Trust me, when Master Nambarauto, who graduated in my class and is a good friend and colleague, goes on about the beauties of crystalline structures in rubies, my eyes glaze over after five minutes, and he lost me three minutes earlier.”

Ingwë threw back his head and laughed. “Well, I admit that some of it is rather dry reading, excellent for putting me to sleep in a hurry, but I have acquired enough knowledge over the last nine yéni since my Awakening that I can keep up with the best of them. Do not forget, Valandur, that our loremasters are not any older than the oldest of us, and their knowledge of things is no greater. You are loremasters by virtue of the fact that you have chosen to devote your lives to delving more deeply into certain matters than the rest of us, but each of us of the First Generation could lay claim to the title simply because we all of us acquired the knowledge that we have experientially. Granted, since coming to Aman, we have been tutored by the Valar or their Maiar, but much of our knowledge is based on our own experiences as we crossed Endórë, applying that knowledge here in building our civilization.”

Valandur nodded, seeing the truth of Ingwë’s words. “Still, why would you want me to be a part of your household? There are others who are more qualified than I, surely.”

“Perhaps,” Ingwë averred with a shrug, “but the point is, I am offering you the position.”

“And what exactly would I be doing? I doubt you would want me on any other diplomatic missions, not after the mess I made of this one.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought you did rather well,” Ingwë drawled as he stood. Valandur started to rise but the king waved him back down as he went to the sideboard to pour himself more wine. He turned around to face Valandur, leaning against the furniture. “It’s not your fault that my brother’s obstinacy and suspicion made your task harder, and the fire was beyond anyone’s ability to predict. You and Intarion did very well there. And then there’s your visit to Alqualondë to speak with Lord Ulmo. You still haven’t told me what he said to you.”

Valandur stood and went to a secretary shoved into a corner of the room, pulling out a drawer and retrieving a bundle of foolscap bound together with red ribbon. He handed it to Ingwë. “It’s all there, every little observation, every action taken on my part, all of it, including a verbatim transcript of my conversation with the Lord of Waters.”

Ingwë accepted the package with a nod, placing it on the sideboard as Valandur turned away, picking up his goblet and retreating to the balcony. Ingwë followed. For a long moment silence settled between them. Valandur looked out onto the gardens and an errant memory caused him to chuckle.

“And what do you find so amusing?” Ingwë asked.

“She was standing right over there shouting my name,” Valandur replied, pointing to a particular spot. “She apparently had been going from one balcony to another looking for me and then she actually climbed up the trellis.” He shook his head at the memory. “Your sister had to come and rescue her. Indis knew just where to find her, though apparently neither Finwë nor Fëanáro had any idea where she had disappeared to.”

“And my beloved Elindis would use that example to prove the superiority of ellith over ellyn,” Ingwë quipped, giving him a knowing grin. Valandur grinned back, but the moment of levity was brief and they both became more pensive. After a moment, Ingwë spoke again. “Olwë and I have tried to convince Finwë that you and Findis belong together, but he will not see it.”

“And why would he?” Valandur asked. “Even you have not seen it, nor has Olwë. Neither of you have spoken to Findis nor have you seen us together. You only know what you’ve been told, and while you apparently have greater faith in the truth of what I and others have said about it, it proves nothing. Finwë saw enough to know that Findis loved me and I her but I do not have the social standing that he thinks appropriate for anyone who wishes to court his daughter and no amount of words from you or anyone else will change his mind on that. Leave it, Sire. Finwë is right about one thing: Findis is still too young for marriage and I would be robbing the cradle, so to speak.”

“And so you’re just going to give up?” Ingwë demanded.

“My life has been one disappointment after another,” Valandur answered, staring out into the garden but not really seeing it. “I struggled to learn what others easily grasped. It took years longer for me to achieve my mastership than anyone else. I was older than some of the masters who taught me and though they accorded me master status, most of my colleagues had little praise for my efforts and I know a few were ready to dismiss me. I thought this mission would help me earn the respect of my fellows, most of whom barely tolerate me.”

He paused for a moment, turning slightly to face the king whose expression was shuttered so Valandur could not tell what he was thinking. “I was looking forward to speaking with Prince Fëanáro,” he continued. “One lambengolmo to another, but he spurned me out of hand. It was the Academy all over again where, from the very first day, I had to prove myself over and over again that I was worthy to sit in the classrooms, that I was worthy of the title of loremaster, that I was simply worthy. You heard Finwë, he was ready to condemn me to years of servitude just to punish me for loving his daughter. So frankly, adding me to your household isn’t going to change any of that and it certainly won’t give me Findis.”

“I am sorry,” Ingwë said.

“No doubt,” Valandur retorted, moving back inside the sitting room, not really caring at this point if he offended the king or not, just weary of it all and wanting to be left alone. Ingwë followed him and put his goblet on the sideboard, picking up Valandur’s report.

“I will read this,” he said. “I still have some business to complete with Finwë and Olwë and then we will leave for Vanyamar in two days on Elenya.” Valandur nodded and Ingwë made his way to the door, opening it, stopping to look back at him, while the guard stepped away, readying himself to follow the king. “In the meantime, do me a favor and try to cheer Intarion up for me. Poor child’s been despondent ever since that farce of a trial and I can’t get him out of his mood and neither Ingoldo nor Tinwetariel are helping.”

“He’s probably pining for the fair Lady Lirulin,” Valandur said with a slight smile. “Probably thinks that his suit is as hopeless as mine.”

“Lirulin! Nolondur’s daughter? I didn’t think she was old enough to be left off her ammë’s leading strings yet.”

“Oh, she’s quite young, younger than Findis, actually, but it was as if a bond was created from the moment they met, both their eyes lighting up. It was rather quite amusing to watch.”

Ingwë snorted. “No doubt. Well, see what you can do to assure him that if he is serious in pursuing his suit with the lady, I will not stand in the way.”

“Perhaps you will not, but others may.”

“We will see,” Ingwë said and then he inclined his head in farewell before exiting, the guard closing the door, leaving Valandur once again alone.

****

Note: _ná_ is the personless present tense form of the verb ‘to be’, which generally is not used in the Elvish languages except in cases of emphasis.